Page 51 of Surrender Your Grace
Cici spun then froze as Andrew stepped inside, his wet hair plastered to his brow, his coat dripping on the floor. He looked spent, his cravat askew and his shoulders heavy with fatigue.
“Andrew,” she said, breath catching. “We weren’t expecting you tonight.”
He gave her a brief look as he shrugged out of his coat. “I sent word. The messenger must have been delayed with the storms.”
She wanted to demand answers, but in a neutral tone asked about his business. “Is everything resolved with the tenants?”
“Barely,” he muttered, dropping into an armchair with a sigh. “Berkshire was a mess. Mediation was all but useless with the tenants at each other’s throats. One man threatened to torch another’s fields over boundary lines.”
“But it’s resolved?”
Andrew nodded. “Enough to warrant coming home.”
She crossed her arms, steadying herself. “Which explains Bellamy’s.”
His brow furrowed. “What?”
“You dined there last night.”
His frown deepened. “I’m tired, Cici. What are you suggesting?”
“You were seen.” She stepped forward and held out the crumpled letter. “With Lady Winslow.”
He hesitated before taking it. Then he unfolded with jerking motions, his jaw locking tighter with every line he read.
“Elizabeth,” he muttered. Then his gaze snapped to hers—wounded, fuming. “And you believe her?”
“She’s my sister,” Cici said quietly. “She wouldn’t—”
“She absolutely would.” His voice cracked with restrained fury. “She thrives on manipulation. What possible motive would she have for telling you this—except cruelty?”
“I wasn’t defending her,” Cici replied, struggling to steady herself. “I was saying she wouldn’t keep something like this to herself; crueltywouldbe her motive. She takes pleasure in hurting me. I know that.” Feeling the prickle of tears, she blinked fast, willing them away. “I tried not to believe her. I fought it. But I’ve heard the same from others.”
He stepped closer, the letter hanging limply at his side. “Tell me. What have I done to deserve your doubt?”
Cici looked away. “You have been gone so much. This last time for ten days.”
“And in my absence, the whispers and salacious tales resonated.” His voice sharpened. “I wrote to you of my plans.”
“Briefly.”
“Because I was dealing with land leases and feuding fools. Not dallying in supper clubs.”
With uncertainty still simmering, she lifted her chin, desperate to know. “Would you tell me if it were true?”
His reply came low and sure. “I would never dishonor you with a lie. I believe I told you that in the beginning.”
Cici pressed a hand to her forehead as pain and regret exploded. “I—shouldn’t have doubted.”
Andrew’s face didn’t soften. “Yet you did. And that changes things.”
Cici sank onto the settee. “I’m tired, Andrew. Tired of whispers, of having to smile through speculation. Tired of feeling like I’m married to a shadow who never stands beside me.”
He closed his eyes fleetingly then opened his hand. The letter floated to the floor damp from his grip, the ink smeared, the condemning words running together.
“I have responsibilities, entire counties relying on me. I don’t have the luxury of chasing gossip.”
“I didn’t want to chase it,” she whispered. “I hate that I did.”
